


The Master & The Lord

by The_Mysterious_Wanderer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BAMF Harry Potter, Dark, Dark Harry Potter, F/M, Gen, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Master of Death (Harry Potter), Master of Death Harry Potter, Mild Smut, Minor Violence, Mob Boss Tom Riddle, Organized Crime, Possessive Tom Riddle, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28702011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Mysterious_Wanderer/pseuds/The_Mysterious_Wanderer
Summary: Lord Voldemort is amongst the most influential crime lord that exists. His reaches are far and deep like a snake slithers around every corner. His connections are powerful and vast. He is a king above all.He is respected. He is fear.There is one stay above him. The Master who plays the world like a bored puppeteer.Notes: This is the rework version of my previous story under the same name. Hope y'all will like this. Enjoy & Have a good day.
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange, Draco Malfoy/Fred Weasley/George Weasley, Harry Potter & Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 133





	1. Many did stirs by just a few

Seven seals.

The cardinal red wolf devouring the pale moon.

The monstrous, amber-eyed hound bearing the vulture-shaped crown lined with dirty silver stars.

The wingless, feathery, proud Minoan Gryphon wearing the turquoise diadem of hidden knowledge.

The Great Tree circled by an upside-down burnt-umber dragon; the ancient roots gnawed in the jaws of the beast.

The dark royal colored two-headed crow carried amber diamonds shaped on its mighty claws; the third diamond laid between the heads engraved with the letter ‘L’.

Three shapeless ocean-blue ravens born from and circled the Triskele in gold.

Lords of the Long Nights.

Seven people.

“When is he coming? Our dear Master?” The dark beauty yet dangerous woman mused in her crazed dreaminess. Dark eyes and wild curls yearning towards the deepest shadow, towards the empty throne.

“Have patient, Melinoë.” A girl—a stark contrast to the beauty of pure madness—cheerily replies from across the reflected table. The whiteish hair adorned with sparking trinkets and her eyes filled with stars.

The others to their left only chuckles.

The devilish six lords and ladies with the world in their palms.

“We have all the time we need, Melinoë.” The darkly handsome lord takes a drink from his glass, those equally dark lustrous hairs playfully fall on those striking grey eyes. The younger lord beside him snickers, sharing the same sentiment.

One Master.

One sigil - The last.

The lone, casual footsteps escape from the shadows attracts their most feverish attention. The women with the name of the goddess of nightmares and terrors moan in pleasure as the calm noise gets closer and closer.

From the shadow, those viridescent eyes shine.

From the shadow, he stands. With the confidence of a king and more than that, the ghostly smirk full of playfulness swift across his face like a tease.

“Sól, Melinoë, Erebus, Achlys, Lupa. And what we have here?” He asks while claiming the vacant seat at the head of the dark wood-engraved table. The throne appears large for his stature but quite comfortable.

He would not mind sleeping in it at all. Though the lords and ladies would be so scandalously scared. Old Nick, they might beg him to take their mansions instead.

“Master.” the union of voices rumbles in this dimly lit marble room.

Beside the woman called Melinoë, a pair of auburn hairs twins laughs out loud, so carefree, so full of trickeries.

“Want me to order another seat made?” He jokingly asks with a raise a brow, already have the answer.

“Nah. We like it this way.” The twin reply. One of them is in the lap of the other, appearing pleasurably like a spoiled cat.

“Suit yourselves.” The Master hums.

He retrieves a folder from his dark coat and lazily slides it to the twins. Their nimble fingers easily access the contents hidden within. A stack of photos, secretly taken, secretly stalked.

“Hmm, isn’t this one looking delicious.” The twin licks his lips while comfortably laid there in the embrace of his brother, hungrily examining their captured target. The other sensually nibbles on the exposed neck within his hands, leaving obvious marks, but those predator-eyes also gazing at the individual inside the series of photos.

“Keep your activities inside the bedroom, Mors.” The young lord half-heartedly warns, humoredly scrunching his nose to show his fake annoyance.

While the older one simply offered the pair a mischievous toast.

The twins simply laugh.

“Dear Melinoë.” The servant purr under her master’s calm voice, if he wanted, she would prostrate beneath his feet in the utmost reverent. “How are you and your husband?”

“We live to serve you, Master.” She wholeheartedly replies. Such an honor that Master bother to have them in his great mind.

“Hmm.” He leans against his throne, a plan already drawn in his mind. “Tell your husband and his brother to come and meet me. They had both proven their loyalty in serving me. Sól you will schedule the time and place.”

“Of course, Master.” The girl on his right nod with a soft chuckle.

While to his left, the wild curled lady found herself flooded in euphoria, enough to bring tears on her pale white face and dark features. Her Master is truly so merciful, so noble to give her lowly family such grand recognition. Truly this is a gift that she, Rodolphus, and Rabastan never dare to dream.

“Master, this is our greatest honor.” She cries, kneeling at her master’s size.

“Now, now Melinoë, how could I ignore all the things that the Lestrange had done in my name?” The Master calmly soothes his devotion follower. “I heard your family are close to Malfoy, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Master.” The lady in black immediately replies, wishing to serve her master. “My sister, Narcissa, she married Lucius Malfoy. They are the Lord and Lady of the family. Their son, Draco is the sole heir, Master.”

“Good.” Her Master smiles brightly at her. His gem-liked eyes glow in unearthly beauty.

“Achlys, how much longer before…your little _recipe_ finished?” He casually turns toward the young lord on his right.

“Soon, My Master.” The Lord bearing the sigil of the feathered Gryphon answers, “It will be ready by tomorrow morning.”

Their Master nod with great satisfaction.

“As soon as Lord Achlys’s _recipe_ is done. Mors, Lupa, you know what you two need to do.” He coldly orders, murderous intention hidden beneath the eyes.

“As you wish.” The two older men simultaneously bow.

“Everything is as plan, my dears.” The Master declares coolly, glancing down his watch. “Oh look, I’m late for my job.” He sarcastically jokes.

On the other hand were once worn an expensive designed watch of gold and gems are now old, barely working one that stood out against his carefully cuts clothing.

Melinoë almost weeps out loud due to the offending object if not for Master to reassures her with a smirk.

“Well then, our meeting is over. Now shoo.” He laughs as the six quickly stand at his departure.

“Hey, Boss!” He doesn’t bother to turns back at the call from the pair of twins. Melinoë unsubtly thrown the two beside her coldly glares, sharp as a knife.

“Yes, Erebus?”

“Where the place?” The waves the folder in the air.

“Where else?” A crescent smirk formed on his face. “But Pandemonium.”

The shadow welcomes him once more.

In the shadow, he disappears.

In the shadow, there is _Home_.

**\------------------------TM &TL------------------------**

“You are not Rolf Scamander.” Tom’s eyes silently study the smaller man before him. On the side, he can hear the disgust of Lucius and Granger at those horrendous baggy clothes and torn jeans that much older than the wearer.

For Lucius, it’s an insult to the well-dressed sense that seems to flow in every Malfoy. With their money, they dress to flaw their wealth and high standing.

For Granger, she detests the choices of such abomination. After all, she is a stickler for rules and neatly stuffs.

“I am _not_.” The young man simply chuckles, scratching the back of those untamed black hair. 

Those viridescent eyes cannot be hidden by those ugly glasses. From the very first moment, Tom has the pleasure of glancing at those gems. They sing to him as the sirens sing to obvious sailors.

Compares to those eyes, all other colors seem to fade.

But Lord Voldemort far more superior than any stinking drunk sailors.

“Then pray tell, who are you? And where is my supposedly personal assistant?” Tom inquires, the usual arrogant smirk edged on his handsome face.

“I’m Harry. _Harry Potter_.” The green eyes male introduces with that blinding, carefree smile as if he’s not standing in the presence of one of the most feared crime lords. “I will be your assistant for a month.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup, one of Rolf’s precious babies got hurt. He has to stay back to take care of her.” Tom sighs. Damn the Scamander and their undying love for animals.

“One of his retrievers?” the crime lord asks. But Harry simply shakes his head.

“Nope.” Oh? “It’s a lion cub that he just adopted.” Damn it, Scamander.

“And you are suitable for the job?” Lucius can’t contain his curiosity, speak up from where he’s standing.

“I am,” Harry affirms. “You can call Sir Newt Scamander. He will vouch for me.” For one, Lord Voldemort’s breath skips a beat when those defiance eyes stare straight into his vermilion ones. That cheeky grin evident on the face of Harry Potter, knowingly start the fire that sleeps within the fearsome lord.

Tom hides his awakens desire upon that intoxication beckoning for a battle of wits behind the charming emotionless face, with the slightest frown.

“How well did you know about…our specific activities?” Lucius continues his semi-interrogation, somewhat annoyed by such tasteless behavior.

“I am acquainted enough regarding what and who you mingle with, Lord Malfoy.” Tom conceals his snort when Harry dares to winks at the elder Malfoy.

“Enough, Lucious.” Tom orders with a wave of his hand. Turning his attention back at his newest obsession. “Now, Mr. Potter my people will contact the head of the Scamander regarding your claims.” No doubt, Granger and Lucius will surely dig for every single piece of information about him. “But if I dissatisfied with your works then the Scamander better take you back in a bag then.”

At such threat, Harry Potter has the nerves to snickers, “You won’t.”

“Hmm, we’ll see then Mr. P…” Lord Voldemort was rudely interrupted when his inner circle, Severus Snape, rushed in bother not to knock. The action earns him a scowl but about the attention of Voldemort.

How curious for his Potion Master to come in without much notice.

“My Lord.” Snape marches forward to his desk, breathless.

“What is it, Severus?” Tom straightens. It’s rare to see such bewilderment and fear on the face of a man such as Severus Snape.

“My Lord, The Order of Phoenix is destroyed. They…they all dead…Dumbledore is dead. He is dead.” It is a simple statement. Simple words. But powerful meaning.

Enough to stunned Lord Voldemort.

Granger and Lucius dare not the breaths upon those words escape from the mouth of Snape.

Only silence as time passes by. The clock ticks on.

“H-how…. w-who…?” Finally, Granger dares to whispers, yet to believe such information.

Severus breathes in deeply before continues, his voice wavers in shock and fright. “Only a few powerful families received letters send especially for them. Only a few have such a privilege. The news is spreading as we spoke.” The framed potion master takes out an envelope dyed in Amaranth red that fully captures the focus of Lord Voldemort.

Both Lucius and Granger gasps.

**_ The Order of Phoenix is gone! _ **

**_ Albus too-many-middle-names Dumbledore is dead! _ **

_And I shall toast with the new champion._

**_But bring me the skin of the wretched Peter Pettigrew and the ‘mad-eye’ of Alastor Moody first, yes?_ **

_I’m borrowing the **Malfoy Manor** in **ONE MONTH** time._

_**Till Then.** _

****

The mastermind behind the crime is clear.

“Who else?? Crimson eyes were glued to the simple written letter.

“Krum, Delacour, and Diggory, My Lord.”

Truly clear despite the lack of name.

That ink-stained sigil speaks for all.

“Old Scratch! May the Devil help me!” Lucius quivered terribly as the last sentence. The usual arrogant and cold façade is utterly gone. “This is…this is…unprecedented…I need to tell Narcissa. My Lord, please allow me to tell my wife. W-we need…the preparations…” Every blood gone from his already pale face.

Tom silently nods.

The elder Malfoy quickly runs out of the office, needing to share the unexpected news with his wife. Their pride as a Malfoy will not allow them to hold any parties within their proud manor half-heartedly. Every detail requires to be top-notch and perfect.

Especially for this upcoming event. Lucius Malfoy can’t help but shudder. Who would have thought the Master bother to choose their manor as a suitable place for such an important occasion? The Master who far more influences than his Lord.

Old Nick, Narcissa is going to losses her mind. Lucius is gone with that dread image.

“My Lord, we n-need…we need to find Pettigrew!” Granger quickly comes up quick a suitable course of action, “Before the news reaches that despicable man. Since he’s serving you, we could trick him. Please allow me to summon him here, My Lord.”

Tom is racing in his mind as he goes through every single plan that he able to conjures up while gazing at the words on the letter in his hand.

Harry Potter just set his desire aflame and now this letter further nurtures that greedy unstoppable fire.

The one who pulls the string behind the scenes. The one who always present in Tom's most secret of dreams. The one who makes Lord Voldemort experience yearning.

The Master of Death.

He is given a once-in-a-lifetime chance to finally come face to face with his equal. And Lord Voldemort shall be triumphant.

“My Lord!” Snape sterns voice pull him out of his thought. “Pettigrew is with Vernon. We need to hurry before the rat escapes our hands.”

“Vernon? Excuse me but is it happen to be a man named Vernon Dursley?” Only now did Snape aware of their guest. Onyx eyes frown at the grinning young man as if some sort spotting some sort of familiarity.

“Yes.” The man confirms. “How did you know?”

At the question, Harry chuckles. The black-haired man looks straight at Voldemort. “Lucky for you, I’m his freaky nephew.”

Well, isn’t today is Lord Voldemort's lucky day. “Well then, Harry.” He purrs, “We better go and greet your family then. Granger, Snape calls for Fenrir, the Carrows, Mulciber, and Rosier. Have them prepare the cars immediately.”

“Yes, My Lord.” His trusted strategist and master of poison are gone as soon as the order left his mouth.

“Is that your things, Potter?” Tom eyeing the half-hazardously placed worn bags and a single old trunk.

“Yeah, all of my items are in those bags. The trunk is all my clothes.” Potter shrugs.

“Snape, take that trunk with you and burn it.” Tom coldly orders. He will not stand this disastrous fashion in his manor, not one bit of it.

Only two of them in the empty office.

Only Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter, who enjoys the commotion so far.

.

.

.

4 Privet Drive is located in a bland, boring neighborhood. Every house is in the mundane colors of ages past. The people carry out their dull life day by day with the meticulous of a puppet.

The Dursley with the husband and son greases with oils from their overweight appearances, barely any necks are visible as they continue to stuff themselves fat with grossest foods available in their gluttonous fingers. The wife is thin as a stick and hideously blonde with that abnormal neck of her, surely, she must have stolen the necks of her husband and son. That horse-teeth sat exactly right on her long face; she is one step from becoming the actual creature.

And there’s an extra in their dreary home filled out perfumes belonging to generations ago.

“I am telling you!!! We could be rich!!! Imagine the money we could steal from Voldemort! Your son will have enough money to spend for the rest of his life if you listen to me!!! But we have to leave now!!!” The man is the perfect example of an abomination where a rat takes shape of a man. Grubby skin, small watery eyes, and pointed nose. His clothes stink and dirty, nothing less than rags.

“You want me to leave my home?!” Vernon bellows, not happy with the idea of moving to some god-forsaken place.

“I know the code to his vault. I can take the money.” The rat-man hisses. “But once he found out, we have to be gone. Far away from here.” The three adults busily discuss in the small kitchen when the plum son peaking from the nearby living room.

All too engrossed on the topic at hand that none pay attention to the soft clicking of the door or the rushing of fabrics as a group of well-dressed men stealthily make their ways in.

“Do you think it would be that easy to steal from me, Pettigrew?” Tom sneers, savoring in the fear that washes over the three as blood runs cold in their veins.

The pathetic son let out a yelp before huddling his overfed form in a corner.

“M-m-my-y L-lord.” Pettigrew, the rat-man, stammers horribly while staring at the tall figure and his men with that little eyes of his. “I-I…would never…” Tom shut the man when Rosier lands a hit on Pettigrew's covering figure.

The wretches man hit the ground with a thud.

“I suppose you being a pathetic greedy rat does indeed play into my favor.” Tom muses, keeping the face of his betrayer stick on the ground as the crime lord ruthlessly steps on it. “You know, the Master just give out an order for your life. No matter where you run, the entire underground world is on the hunt for your little skin, Pettigrew.”

The rat-man shook violently under his feet upon the news. Once the Master had put out a hunt for his life, then…then…he’s dead before able to set foot on a plane.

“N-no, please My Lord. S-save me! S-save me!!! Please, I-I will serve you.” Tom cut the man off with little force. It’s so tempting to crush that disgusting face with his strength but ah, Peter Pettigrew’s fate is that worse than dead.

“Carrows, Fenrir, get this wretch being out of my side. You know what to do, just like what The Master wanted.” His gruesome followers with the taste for horror bow deep with the murderous desire on their lips. “And remember, not even the slightest mistake.”

“Yes, My Lord.” They said in unison before dragging Pettigrew to his awaiting doom.

“And now, Dursleys, what to do with you?” The crime lord coldly examining the remaining family.

“Please spare us!” Vernon begs. “We were trapped in his words. Please. We will not bother you ever again, my lord.”

“As cowardice as ever, I see.” Harry makes his presence known with a mocking smile. Those green eyes shine so beautifully in that bitter taste of hatred.

“Y-You.” The wife gasps, her eyes wide open as if they are seeing a ghost.

Maybe they are.

Seeing a ghost that is. A ghost of their darkest crimes.

“Hello, Petunia.” Harry greets.

“H-how…did you…”

“Survived?” Harry cut her short. “Luck I guess.” Harry shrugs.

“Freak…” Vernon about to says some very displeasing words to heard if not for the warning shot from Lord Voldemort throwing his way.

“What are you planning to do with them?” Harry suddenly turns to asks the crime lord, as casual as inquiring about the weather, not a life-or-death matter.

“Hmm, what do you suggest?” And Tom willing to humor his…well, personal assistant. For now.

Harry looking around the home for a moment, only stop when his eyes glance at a small cupboard under the stair.

“That used to be my room,” Harry announces. Tom displeases at the sudden lack of cheekiness in Harry’s voice. He can taste the solemn scent of the past. Vermillion's eyes also found the cupboard that once contains a small child.

In the silence, their past reaches out the depth.

Connected. Entwined.

“Rosier, Mulciber, tied them up and stuffed them in the cupboard.” Lord Voldemort finally give out his judgment to those who dared to crosses him. “I want them to burn alive.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“NO! NO! PLEASE!” Vernon's scream is cut short with a punch to his abdomen. The wife offered little to no fighting for her strength is no match to the two vicious enforcers.

“My Lord, what about the boy?” Rosier waiting for his next instruction after cramming the husband and wife inside the small cupboard that only three steps wide.

“Give him to Madame M. She is having a taste for boys of his features,” Harry suggests while making his way outside, to pass the screaming couple locked under the stair.

“Do as Potter says then, Rosier.” Tom quickly follows his dark-haired assistant.

“For someone not active in our world of crimes, you are scarily well-inform, Harry Potter.” Tom looks at the male beside him as they settle in the car, parked outside the home.

In the dark, his eyes gleaming in poisonous charms. “I’m more in the gutter than you thought,” Harry smirks. “My lord.”

“Hmm, be careful with your cheekiness, Potter.” The crime lord warns.

“You enjoy it far too much.”

The pair watch as Mulciber sets the house aflame before together with Rosier throws the trembling son into the back of the car. The two immediately take the driver seat and the passenger seat and drive their car away from the unfolding crime.

“You are going to be a puzzle, aren’t you Harry Potter?” Tom comments towards the black-haired boy who has his attention elsewhere.

Harry watches attentively as the fire spread like a hungry beast, clicking through the woods and furniture inside that house. The golden fire dances reflecting their amber inside those hypnotizing viridescent eyes.

“And you, my dear lord, is a **_riddle_**.” He smirks, feeling the coldness of the tinted glass against his face.

**\------------------------TM &TL------------------------**

The distinguished while-gold hair of Draco Malfoy stands out in the private bar, notoriously to get in if you are a nobody. But for someone with his stature, it’s as easy as a blink of an eye.

Merely a walk in the park.

His lone figure sits on his private suite by the bar, away from everyone else. Grey eyes scan down from the balcony, down at the dancefloor where bodies intertwined drunkenly high in bodies pleasures.

And here he is, just Draco and his Firewhiskey.

“Fun night?” Blaise Zabini, the owner, takes a seat next to his childhood friend. The Italian heartbreaker with his muscular olive skin and amber eyes watches as the Malfoy heir down another drink.

The prominent Zabini family always remains as the neutral party in the ever turmoil worlds of disorders and crimes. They willing to works with everyone as long as it’s profitable.

“Not really.” Draco snorts in his glass. “Mother just got the news from father. She is already losing her mind. I’m intended to stay out for the night.”

Blaise whistles. “Who would have guessed that the Master choose the Malfoy Manor? My Nonna and father are steaming with envy just for you know.”

“Cheer to that then.” Draco pours a glass for his friend. The Zabini happily down it in one go.

“Everyone will be on edge.” He warns the Malfoy heir. “Krum, Diggory, and Delacour are heading to Britain in one-week times, or possibly sooner if they can manage it.”

“Our Lord will be victorious.” Draco firmly states, downing his drink.

“Hello, gorgeous, can we buy you a drink?” Twin figures appear before Draco. Great, some idiot drunkards. Malfoy sneers, ready to shoo the troublesome away.

Beside him, the Zabini heir faintly acknowledges the twins, eyes unreadable dancing between the tall figures and his lonesome friend.

“I have to go, Draco.” Blaise pats on his friend with a soft sigh. “I’ll see you around. Be safe.”

Draco follows the retreating shadow of his friend as the Zabini boy lost in the shadow, descending to where the music is.

“Aww, we feel ignored, gorgeous.” Great, the two idiots still here. Draco frustratedly growls, unknowingly earning a raise of the brow from the pair.

“Go away.” The Malfoy heir warns.

“Aww, but we want sometimes with you, gorgeous.” The twin leans closer, finally within Draco’s vision.

Turn out, they are a pair of attractive twins.

They share the same copper hair that almost metallic in color with just the slightest hint of autumn red. Their shared blue-grey eyes sparkle with pure mischievous. Their clothes perfectly complement the lean but muscular bodies.

They attach to one and other in such a sensual manner that does not appropriate anywhere else but here.

For here. Pandemonium.

“Now you finally see us, gorgeous.” Their hot breath tickles against his skin.

The alluring invitation that Draco is known to well.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Fred. And this is George. Prewett.”

The name immediately sparks recognition for the Malfoy heir. “You are the Prewett twin.”

“We are.” The pair dramatically bow, still hanging on each other.

“Fancy seeing you here then.” Draco takes a sip from his glass of Firewhiskey. Those eyes. They want to eat him alive.

The notion sends anticipation chill across his body.

“Ah, the world is rumbling, and we want to watch.” George moves closer, only inches apart separate them. The other, Fred, encaged the blonde from behind, finger toying with the buttons of his white shirt.

“What makes you two thinks that I’m willing to go to bed with you, Prewetts?” Draco challenges. Trying to hide his moans as Fred trails across his neck with kisses and bite while George caresses his exposed skin beneath the shirt.

“How feisty. I like that, gorgeous.”

“Besides, it would be a lonely night to spend alone, wouldn’t it gorgeous?”

Draco can’t help but buckles under their touches. Those sweet moans finally escape from his pink lips, intoxication that no Firewhiskey can compare.

“N-not here.” The young Malfoy gasps upon the feelings of fingers traveling down, already touching his most private part.

“As you wish, gorgeous.” They whisper in his ears.

Draco found himself to be carried by the Prewett twin to the hidden, exclusive hall just round the corner. Reserved for only a selected few.

A room, by the end of the dimly lit hall, already awaits them.

And by the time the door was locked and shut from the outside world, all their clothes already beneath their feet.

Hands wander and caress the burning skin. Explores and worships.

The twin takes turns kissing him with a passion akin to burning.

He weakly aware of himself being places between them in the tangles of sheets. He howls in pleasures as those fingers making a mess inside him.

“Beautiful. You sing so beautifully for us, gorgeous.” George hoarsely praises, kissing along the sweaty collar bone. His tongue trails along the smooth skin. Fred hungrily devours the lovely mouth.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous. We will make you feel good.” Fred smiles into the kiss as his fingers finally found the blonde’s sweet spot, Draco sings even more delectably.

“Ready for the main course, gorgeous?” The twin asks in their raspy voices. Draco couldn’t answer by his voice, only weakly nod.

His legs being spreading wider when the twin simultaneously enters him from both sides. Their thick, throbbing hot, and hard members penetrate Draco's most private parts. He can’t help but moans louder and louder due to the fullness that so satisfied.

It was gentle at first but slowly turns into pure carnal pleasure where the twin lost their mind in this burning hunger rut as they rhythmically pounding in him. Pushing Draco to his limit. The blonde leans against Fred whit arms wrapping around the shoulders of the taller man for some support while George holds up from behind.

Their mating carnal rut lasts for a long time as Draco lost his sense of time. All he able to feel are the thirst for more. This addictive ecstasy of lust that too tempting. Every fiber of Draco is burning in the flames of desires as the Prewett twin has undone him bit by bit. Draco begs and demands them to go deeper and faster, clinging onto to for dear life. Three of them fueled by the same fire as the Prewett releases themselves deep inside Draco, forever marking him theirs.

Draco’s entire world was painted in white at that exact moment.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous.” Fred whispers darkly to the clingy, panting blonde around his body, “We are not over with you, gorgeous. You won’t be able to walk after we have done with you.” As if to emphasize their promise, the twin begins to move inside him again.

The members throbbing against Draco’s redden and over-sensitive inside.

Their coupling lasted through the night and continue into the early morning where the sun shining down on a new day. But in the dim room heavy with the smells of sex and pleasure, the trio still deep in their lust.

Draco is on his knees with George taking him from behind like a beast in a rut. While he busily satisfied Fred using his mouth, taking in that throbbing hot member. Fred whispers words of encouragement while moving his hip, hands stroking through the silky platinum blonde hair, damped with sweats.

“You’re doing so great, gorgeous. Taking both of us in, so well.”

“Ready, gorgeous?” George asks from behind, moving even faster. “We will fill you up, again.”

They both know too well that Draco couldn’t answer when his adorable mouth is occupied.

The twin releases their burning loads inside the Malfoy heir who obediently receives them all.

“Yes gorgeous. Swallow them.” Fred encourages, wiping away some of the stray murky white fluid escape the rosy pink lips. “That’s it, gorgeous.” Fred pulls him into a deep kiss, tasting himself inside the lovely blonde mouth.

Their passion lasted till the first ray of the morning.

George reaches for a toy they specifically prepared before from the nearby drawer, he slowly pushes the long object inside, keeping theirs mixed milky viscosity fluids from leaking out. Earning them a soft moan from the tired blonde who already passed out between their embraces.

Sweaty and undeniably fill to the brim.

Fred and George share the same victorious smile when their eyes meet.

“Damn, our Boss’s taste is brilliant,” Fred comments to his brother who agrees wholeheartedly. “Isn’t he gorgeous, Fred? Absolutely delicious.” With that, the pair pleasurably join their gorgeous blonde in a well-deserved sleep.

**\------------------------TM &TL------------------------**

“So, this is what the infamous Aparecium consists of,” Tom observes the smaller male in his arm, unimpressed at the gather of a selected few from the upper class in their costly clothes, flattering dresses, and shiny jewelry.

A secret annual party for the most secretive of deals.

“So, you heard of this gathering as well?” Tom continues his quest on solving the puzzle that is Harry Potter.

“I heard talking but never see in person. Until now.” Harry answers, quite disappointed at the boringness of the event.

“Well, this year seems to be the best yet.” Tom chuckles darkly. “The little letters from the Master shaken them up quite nicely.”

Never let a single conversation regarding himself or regarding the three other families out of his earshot.

“Is that so.” Harry muses, eyes sparkling. “Although you are the most enigma, my lord.”

“Oh, do tell me, Harry.” Tom won’t ever admit out loud that he genuinely wants to know what his sassy little personal assistant thinks about the infamous crime lord.

“Normally you would have an exquisite arm-candy hanging by your side for these events.” Playful eyes glance down at their joined hands with Harry loop his hand around Tom’s.

The smaller male fit perfectly in Tom’s arm which pleases the criminal lord immensely.

“Who says I didn’t have an exquisite arm-candy hanging off my hand right now?” Tom cocks a brow at the owner of those unmistakable green eyes.

At his question, Harry simply laughs. Incidentally, pluck a glass of bubbly champagne from a passing waiter, viridescent eyes peek up towards crimson eyes as Harry slowly taste his drink.

“How flattering.” Lord Voldemort is so tempting to lean down and claims those rosy lips in his if not for the abrupt interruption from a couple of husband and wife with appearances closer to the union between deities of the night and darkness.

The husband almost matching in height with Tom with the darkest of hair. The dark dress robes are personally cut to match the muscular figure, while his wife skipping steps joyously with her usual manic laugh in her husband’s well-built arm.

“Lord Lestrange.” Tom and the man share a polite greeting as the two pairs come face to face. “Madame Lestrange, you are as stunning as ever.”

The Lady of Lestrange is admired for her splendor of a dark goddess, her pale white skin totally enhances those red lips and onyx eyes beneath the fluttering eyelashes, and her long, wild shiny hair only added to her vestige of beauty. She stands tall and takes great pride alongside her husband.

Although Tom is more acquainted with stories of Lady Lestrange’s ruthlessness and the madness that seemingly befallen her family. It’s a shame that the Lestrange decide to stay neutral for some strange reason. Yet those desires for blood and craving for chaos are unmistakable in the Lord and Lady Lestrange’s dark eyes.

Lady Lestrange’s gazes remain on Harry before returning to Tom. Her usual craziness is back in a snap. “Lord Voldemort.” She cackles as Tom kisses the back of her hand. “How lucky you are. To be chosen by Him, The Master, you must be happy. I must confess, I’m green with envy that He pay too much care for all of you.”

Harry softly coughs, finally decide to put the champagne down on the nearby table.

“I feel fortunate, Lady Lestrange.” Tom put on his charming outlook with a polite smile easily woos anyone he engages in conversation with. The same smile led to the downfall of Hepzibah and many others. “Perhaps, once we are in a proper alliance then Lady Lestrange could finally meet the renowned Master of Death.”

At that, Bellatrix giggles maddingly. “Oh Lord Voldemort, how cunning of you. No wonder. No wonder. Though we will, once again, decline your offering, Lord Voldemort.”

Unexpected. Tom doesn’t hope much considering how many times he had sent Lucius to try and fail to persuade the pair to join his side with more tempting deals than this.

“Will you join us with this year’s special event, Lord Voldemort?” Lord Rodolphus curious inquires.

“It would be my pleasure. Though it’s rare of you to partake in such activities.” Tom studies the couple as they make way to the private section inside the building.

“Ah yes, my wife and I despise such events. We are not saints, not even close. We look down on those pathetic, disgusting bastards seeking pleasures in children.” Lord Rodolphus admits lightly, something Tom approves. “But my lovely wife here decides to give this year a chance, given the recent unique circumstances.”

The servant led them to a reserved box with comfortable chairs, foods, and expensive wines looking directly down at the velvet red curtain stage. Box 5—closest to the stage—remains empty, curtain drawn.

The four make themselves comfortable with Bellatrix sprawl across her husband, shamelessly.

“Let see what they have in store for us this year then.” Lord Rodolphus fills his glass full of a casual toast to his guest. A rare smile marked his face.

.

.

.

Turn out, it’s still tediously boring.

The Lestrange husband and wife sneers at each item being offers as if they are worth nothing in their eyes. Compares to Lucius who built his illegal artifacts through events like this, it’s somewhat a refreshing experience for Tom.

Though Lord Rodolphus did snatch a precious opal necklace as a gift for his wife with much ease. It’s complemented her beauty, he explained.

His Harry shares the sentiments with the Lestrange. He rather befriends the pair than paying any focus on the illegal auction below.

And surprisingly, Bellatrix seems to be taken with the green-eyed boy extremely well. They are exactly like two peas in a pod extremely fast. Tom growls each time she cuddles with **_HIS_** Harry in her bosoms. 

At least, it’s drawing to a close as the announcer bid everyone farewell after another fruitful auction. Tom can’t wait to snatch his Harry back from the crazy woman.

 _[Greeting, Lord Voldemort.]_ The pre-recorded distorted voice cause silence to drop across the spacious space.

None dare to make a sound.

Box 5 was supposed to be empty. No matter the circumstances, that is the rule. Always the rule.

Unless…

The answer that pops up inside every individual in attendance scared them all, immensely.

Tom sits up straight, leaning forward in anticipation. His heart pounding hard inside his chest.

 _[I hope, everyone will pardon my sudden presence tonight.]_ The voice continues from the famous Box 5. A hand emerges from the darkness, beckoning the cowering announcer who obediently obeys.

The person inside whispers something to the trembling man. Tom observes as the poor announcer rushes off stage before returning with a shiny tray.

The hand placed four objects, different in sizes, in shapes, in purpose.

A golden, detailed-engraved cup.

A set of blue sapphires necklace and a ring.

A golden pin of a human male but with many attributes of a dragon, a pair of wings, scales, and claws.

The last object.

Tom prays that it is not what he’s thinking. The mere idea makes his blood boil with anger, how he had spent years after fruitless years to search for the lost treasure of his ancestor.

The object that directly links to his hatred for his damned father, accursed grandfather, and uncle. He hopes they all burn in hell. A part of him still laments for his pitiful mother.

 _[A gift on my part to all the chosen champions.]_ The voice speaks in the monotone however it is as if the voice is mocking Tom _. [The cup of Helga Hufflepuff for the Diggory heir, Cedric Diggory. The Zmeys, something the Krum family would love to reclaim after such long times.]_ The voice chuckles but the distortion only make it eerier. _[This shall be my gift to the promising Viktor Krum. And I suspect, the heiress Fleur Delacour would be happy to have the Veela’s Tears that once belong to her maternal grandmother back.]_

A pause.

And yet, none dare to move or even breathe.

Stunned and scared.

[The vassals shall deliver my gifts to your lords, yes?]

A collection of mumbles ‘yes’ from the crowd as if they are a bunch of obedient children.

This is the power of the Master of Death. Something Tom desires to have as well.

 _[Lord Voldemort~]_ The voice purrs.

His pride will allow nothing less, Lord Voldemort stands tall and full of pride. Unbothered when all eyes timidly glance up at the fearsome lord.

Harry silently observes from behind, sitting between Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange. 

_[At last, I hope you will be satisfied that the Locket of your ancestor finally in your possession. The Locket of Salazar Slytherin.]_

_[To my champions, let the game begin.]_

Crimson eyes flares upon the declarations, raging with the fires of thousands hell.


	2. Only you can prove your worth to me.

It’s a beautiful winter afternoon with the sky painted in soft hues of pink and lavender, when they all pleasurably gather inside Riddle manor’s lounge spacious room that also connected to rooms for entertainments such as billiard and card playing. Lord Voldemort's inner circle plus one Harry Potter.

The room—decorated in lush and warm colors with magnificent carpet and gilded furnishings—is located on the first floor on a side of the historic manor filled with many comfortable sofas circling the fireplace, beside the rows of tall windows that look to the flourishing garden.

Lord Voldemort sits in the grandest chair, nearest to the decorated hearth with Harry only a desk away. The others surround him.

“You are our Lord’s assistant, Harry. Not dates him.” Ron whines from his seat next to Harry, “And my Lord, stop glaring like you want to ravish him without clothes.”

“Ha, I would rather that than a cranky lord, Weasley.” Fenrir laughs from where he is lying. “A cranky Lord Voldemort isn’t a good thing. Hey Lucius, remember when he had that fallout with the girl.”

Lucius’s perfect brow slightly frowns upon being mentioned, though he refrains from commenting anything and risk the wrath of their lord. Only a crude man like Fenrir can speak without fear of punishments.

“Granger, Severus, how was your investigation regarding the death of Dumbledore and his syndicate?” Tom—unbothered and did not protests the Weasley’s claim—unapologetically steals Harry’s steaming cup of tea in front of every watchful eye.

Harry chuckles, not taking his eyes off the paper.

“Snape has been drooling over the poison, my Lord,” Granger smirks toward the older man, sitting next to the Malfoys. “Dumbledore and almost all of his followers had been poisoned by an unknown substance. Snape is still looking into it, My Lord.”

“Something even Severus is having trouble with?” Draco whistles. Impressed.

Though his cranky godfather is quite annoyed. “Whoever creates the poison is extremely well-versed in herbology and toxicology. It has been a while for me to encounter someone as effective as this person, to be able to have a poison that can kill an adult with a small dose.”

Coming from the genius poison master, it’s a heavy complement to the original poison creator. 

“Wow, as expected from the Master. They truly have many cards in their sleeves.” Ron comments.

“Continues, Granger.” Tom presses on. “What about the search for Alastor Moody?”

“My Lord, that is one lucky bastard. He would have died along with other members if not for Dumbledore sent him away for an unknown reason last minutes.” Granger offers her lord the folder containing the last photos of their prey leaving number 12 Grimmauld Place on a cold November night.

Moody was seen with his battered coat and kilt, the signature glass-eye stood out despite the low quality of the photos.

“I’m ordering our best teams to track for every suspicion movements within the country.”

“So, you believe he did not leave England?” Tom asks, hanging the folder back.

“No, My Lord.” She confidently answers. “There are no proves of his boarding a plane. Chances are he is hiding due to the recent news.”

“My Lord, I also believe Moody was part of the team that was sent to kill our people a year ago at Spinner’s End and he could respond for the injuries suffered by the youngest Nott in the same attack.”

“Wrong place, wrong times.” Fenrir comments, finally sitting up after Tom send his man a raised brow. “Nott would be indebted once we capture our prey.”

“Well, we better do it before the other families.” Draco titles towards the discarded invitation on their lord’s desk. “Now that all of them are here, the hunt will be brutal. Granger, you better do something.”

At that, Hermione snaps back. “I’m doing everything my best here, Malfoy. If you think you can do it better than me then sure, go ahead.”

“W-why you…”

“Enough,” Tom commands. “Granger, Malfoy, you two are not children. Focus on your duties.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Their heads low at the reprimanded.

“Lucius, how is the preparation at Malfoy Manor?” Tom questions his second-in-command, who look paler these days.

“My Lord, my wife and I are supervising every step ourselves.” Lucius assures, “There won’t be any problems with the meeting. I have up securities around the manor, every servants and worker are constantly checked and watched. Severus and my team even checked the food for poisons.”

“Good, keep up with everything you’re doing right now, Lucius.” The Malfoy Lord sighs with relief, but the stress still exists in his frown. “Granger, Severus, continues with your investigation. I want Alastor Moody found as soon as possible.”

“Try looking at Mould-in-the-Wold or Godric’s Hollow, those are Dumbledore’s homes early in life,” Harry speaks up while working on the financial statement and calculation. “Mad-eye is a big fan of Dumbledore. He might try seeking solace at Dumbledore old homes, though he might not stay for too long.”

The Death Eaters and their Lord all turn to the young man, surprised. This is something new for them, after all, Dumbledore was notorious for guarding his past like a dragon hoarding treasures.

“How did you know, Harry?” Tom sweetly askes, holding the cup of tea hostage.

Harry stops his works, cheekily smile. “I’m **_that_** good at gathering information.”

“And you sure you don’t want to permanently join me?” Tom offers. His Death Eaters doesn’t know for sure if their lord is serious or not.

It’s still unprecedented that their lord would pay much attention to someone outside his circle.

“Nah, I’m like where am I.” Harry declines with a wink.

“Ron, Fenrir, go to those places to see if anyone saw Moody. Remember, be discreet. I want no wrong attention.” Tom turns back to his trusted Death Eaters. “After that, join Granger and Severus. And keep your ears and eyes out for any information among the trades.”

“Yes, My Lord.” They bow.

“Now go.” Tom coldly orders. Fenrir laughs as they empty the room, the massive man whispers to Weasley walking next to him something about ‘I bet our Lord wants to ravish Harry’. Blood immediately rushes on the red-haired Death Eater as he practically runs out of there.

Tom gets up from his seat once it is only two of them left, he casually strolls to the vintage wooden gramophone shaped like a flower that once belongs to his father.

The pleasant melody starts to play from the instrument. Music, softly, gently, deftly, leisurely unfurls its splendor.

Tremulous and tender.

Sweet and intoxication.

Harry hums, approved, with a raised brow in question. Or perhaps, waiting.

Tom marches toward were the green eyes man currently sitting, he offers his hand.

“Will you give me an honor of a dance?” Harry looks up to see the seductive smile that stole many young hearts of Lord Voldemort.

And Harry, he returns the charms.

“I would be an honor.” Sparks, electrified, run across their joined hands. Tom purrs as he rests his hand around the smaller man’s petite waist as if Harry Potter were perfectly created for him alone.

The pair, inseparable, faultless as they swirl in dances along with the music in the room that only exist for them. Unspoiled movements that entwined with the melody, Tom challenges and Harry easily responds.

Harry dominates when Tom willing to give in.

Tom takes the lead and Harry follows.

Like dawn and dusk, different but the same.

In the world exist for them, and them alone.

In each other’s eyes, in green, and red. They exist.

“I wasn’t joking when I said that you know?” Tom’s deep voice merges with the tune, dripping with seduction. “You should join me, Harry.”

And Harry’s laugh is just as beautiful, the dark-haired siren unexpectedly pulls them into a surprise twirl, though Tom quickly followed. “And I wasn’t lying when I reject, my Lord.”

Those emerald eyes fall upon the forgotten rose-fragrant open envelope, “Besides, you have a test to complete. Besides, I want to see how you would fare, **_my lord_**.”

**\------------------------TM &TL------------------------**

“You are so tense, gorgeous. Relax.” Those voices tickle the inner-most of Draco’s ear, his skin is over stimulus with so many sensations as the silky rope tied around his hands.

The chill night intruded from the open window facing his large bed, yet those hands are burning as they travel across his naked body. Draco Malfoy trapped between the pair, with George laying on his bed, stirring up Draco’s inside. The other twin, Fred, taking him from behind. They are devouring him like two beast fevers in ruts.

Fred dares to whisper vulgar things in his ear while hungrily leaving marks on his exposed neck.

Draco is put into wild rhythms with the guidance of George’s hands on his waist that drove him crazy. It’s as if one of his dirtiest dreams comes true, where the Prewett twins making him feels undone in his bed, inside the Malfoy manor.

“H-how did you…” Fred takes a nip at his round earlobe.

“How did we get in?”

“How did we able to ravish the gorgeous Malfoy right under the Malfoy ancestral home?” The twin teasingly asks what Draco couldn’t while ramming up their merciless assaults.

The blonde helplessly moans, dripping wet with pleasures and smoldering craving.

“We are just that talents, gorgeous.” George blindingly smiles at the male riding him, eyes clouded with lust.

“We won’t answer once you satisfied us, fairy,” Fred adds, hitting Draco’s inside with each twitch.

“Y-you…” Draco gasps, desperately holding his voice back. The last thing he wants is for someone to pick up suspicious noises and decide to investigate.

Draco Malfoy would die in sheer shame if his parents caught him in such a situation.

The Prewett twin venture deeper and deeper inside him. The pair explore every single part of Draco in great detail as they slowly untangling him with every thrust.

“Absolutely gorgeous.” George praise while intensely watching the erotic scene before his eyes, enough for him to completely let go. The same sensation that also shared by his brother.

They happily filled up their gorgeous blonde with all their lusts combined.

Draco takes in a deep, sharp breath with the new senses of ecstasy and fullness, the warmness that flooded his stomach as the Prewett twins released inside him.

The hands immediately wandering around his now slightly bulge stomach as Draco fall onto George. Fred happily lies beside him, still knotted deep inside Draco.

The pair wolfishly smiles upon seeing the trails of whitish fluid leaking down the Malfoy heir’s tone thighs.

George quickly takes the opportunity to occupied Draco’s pink lips against his in a passionate kiss, devouring the breathless blonde.

“It’s great, gorgeous.” Fred hoarsely whispers. “I want to fill you up again and again. Don’t you like it, gorgeous? We will fill you up until you are brimming with our children, hmm?”

“Sh-shut up.” Draco breaks away from the teasing mouth that unbothered. Instead, that devilish lips and tongue pleasurably trace down his throat. Though, Fred quickly claims his gasping, trembling protest.

“N-no, no…” Draco breaths, “Idiots, as least shut the window. It’s cold.”

“Aww, we can always warm you up, gorgeous.”

“Someone will see me!” Draco continues to object.

“This is the second floor of the manor, love. Who can see us?” George raises a brow.

“And even if they see us, it must have been a great show for them.” Fred teasingly thrusts, causing Draco to twitch as his inside is wet, over-sensitive, and slippery.

“No.” Draco hisses, appearing angry. Though he is sure that it will only make those Prewett idiots turn on.

“All right then, gorgeous. But which one of us are going?” George asks.

“I don’t care. Just closes that stupid window.” Draco pouts.

“Fred, you are the sacrifices.”

“Nooo.” The twin behind him whines. “But it feels so good staying inside our gorgeous Draco.” This earns him a hit on the shoulder by the blonde as pink tinted his pale, sweaty face.

“I will go if you allow us for another round, gorgeous.”

“Go.” Draco shivers as Fred pulling away from him. The viscous fluids now running down his thighs tainted the damped bedsheet beneath.

Draco and his twin watch as Fred, unabashedly, makes his way towards the open windows, scattered with their clothes and stuff.

“Let me taste your sweet mouth again, gorgeous.” George shifts the blonde’s attention away. “Don’t worry, love. We will fill you up again.”

“Hey, wait for me, Georgie,” Fred calls out as he gathered their discarded clothes and put them aside in a neat pile. The auburn-bronze haired male peaks out at the cool night air looking out towards the fortress of a gate of the Malfoy Manor, the massive, lush garden surrounded the marvel ancestral residents of every Malfoy. The sizable population of solely albino peacocks already stays in their coops just out of his sight.

Fred hums, satisfied, before glancing down. His mischievous smile immediately shifted, now they are cruel and sadistic.

Directly below him—on the not so empty ground—a group of mildly armed guards in total blacks is hurriedly gathered up a handful of prisoners bounded and gagged, carefully working in complete silence. Their weapons were already confiscated.

The leader of the group dragged a woman, seemingly the leader of those rude intruders, toward the watching Fred. He smirks upon spotting her dishevels, bruises, and bleeding wounds that stained her pathetic clothes that she must have to dig out of some dumpsters.

“Hello, Tonks.” He mouthed, not wanting to alert the blonde inside. It’s so hilarious to see her fruitless thrashing that was quickly stopped by his men.

Fred picks up the nearest phone—carelessly scattered on the floor—whether it’s his or George, doesn’t matter. He promptly types and sends the short order just as quickly.

{Get them out of here without any notice. **_He_** doesn’t want any survivors. Do as you please.}

The leader of his loyal troops nods upon receiving the message, dragging Tonks away as he carried out the order, obediently and seamlessly. Fred lingers for a minute longer to see his guards retreat into the darkness with their captured preys.

Those pitiful preys that won’t survive till the morning.

He closed the door, shut the curtains. George shares the same sadistic pleasures for blood as Fred turns back to the bad. Twin pair of eyes, sharing the same thoughts.

“Well gorgeous, I’m intended to keep my promise.” Fred darkly says as he walks back to the bed where Draco beautifully lies there, all ready to be devoured.

**\------------------------TM &TL------------------------**

Hogwarts, the historical castle that his ancestor was a part of, the castle that once fall under the disgusting control of Dumbledore and his croons.

The castle that once Tom’s greatest shame of letting those despicable running around inside. But that shame is no longer. Now, it’s replaced with victorious.

Hogwarts finally returns to Tom. The magnificent castle located on the misty mountains, away from the world, resides on the tall white cliff by the massive Black Lake that snakes around the Highlands.

Tom sits in the highest spot in the Great Hall, unique for the breathtaking dome painted night sky with the endless sea of stars and grand crystal chandeliers that radiance with the kaleidoscope of colors.

The castle that Salazar Slytherin once helped to build along with the three other founders.

He carefully observes as Viktor Krum leads his Bulgarian members through the door. The heir of the Krum family walks with much confidence in his maroon robes with a matted, fur cape of similar color. The Zmeys pins proudly displaced over his heart as the stocky-build man strikes across the floor.

The stoic expression on Krum’s face offers no clues for most but not Lord Voldemort. He knows where to look.

The Delacour follows closely behind with a group of men and women, all of them are up to guard and well equipped for sure. Fleur Delacour is their leader in her dark navy suits that are boldly designed to mimic a dress as well. The heiress also proudly put on her maternal grandmother's priceless jewelry.

Just as the Locket of Salazar now resides around his neck.

Inwardly, Tom won't lies when he comes to terms with his jealousy towards the faceless Master who controls bits and pieces of their world. His mere presence commands total submission and completes obedience. All things that Lord Voldemort thrives for and craves.

The Diggory is the last to enter Hogwarts’s, Great Hall. Cedric Diggory arrives together with his girlfriend, the daughter of some millionaire of Asian descent. It’s hard to believe someone like the young Diggory to be the next in line of the criminal family that controls the States.

Cedric inherits his height and handsomeness from Lord Diggory, but he also inherits the gentleness of the late Lady Diggory with those chiseled features, dark hair, and grey light eyes. Normally, Tom would simply assume that the innocent appearances are just a mask to hide the madness. But after the few times that he interacted with the Diggory heir, Lord Voldemort had concluded that the tender and gentle from Diggory’s eyes are those genuine.

This is a terrific irony since the Diggory are famous for their ruthless and many nasty involvements. Tom, Krum, and even Delacour, all them had long accept that their hands are forever stained. Though Tom is sure that he’s neck-deep in the blood of the innocents, of his enemies. His broken souls are closer to hell than the heaven filled with lights and everything nice.

Damnation is their destination, not redemption.

Something he not sure the young Diggory heir willing to go. Lord Voldemort will surely watch with interest when the time comes for Lord Diggory to step down, Tom has the hunch that Cedric might want to leave his family’s business.

Lord Diggory is rumored to sire numerous children before and after the death of his wife, so that won’t be a problem to find a replacement. Although Tom would refer to inner conflicts that happen within the family.

“Lord Voldemort, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” Krum greets once he reaches the high table reserved for them alone. Their members gathered into groups occupied at different available tables, some willing to engage in polite talks with members of other families, though alerts are high.

Everyone is on guard for anything unusual.

His Death Eaters are keeping an eye out for every detail occurring inside the Great Hall. Fenrir and Rosier monitor from a corner. Crouch and Lucius are making light talks with the Head of the Krum and Diggory. While Lady Delacour is surrounded by her guards at their table. Weasley simply walking around, having short conversations here and there. The Carrows are having great times talking with the Bulgarians, surely about their favorite methods of torturing.

Mulciber is standing guard by his side. Only Granger and Severus are absent, Tom had ordered the pair to stay and continues their searches.

“I have heard many things about you as well, Viktor Krum.” Their share a quick handshake. “You’re quite popular back home.”

“My honor.” The Bulgarian heir crudely replies just as Delacour and Diggory join them.

“Greetings, Lord Voldemort. And heir Krum, heiress Delacour.” Cedric Diggory warmly addresses them. “May I introduce my fiancé, Lady Cho Chang.”

“My pleasure.” Fleur quickly says, subtly flaunting her unrivaled beauty. Tom faintly snorts, knowing too well of her cunning. Any lesser men would surely succumb to her webs but not him, something annoyed her greatly.

One of the reasons why she tried to win him over, and why Tom cut off their _‘relationship’_.

“I welcome you and your fiancée to this great island, heir Diggory. Perhaps, a congratulation is in order?” Tom charmingly greets them.

Fleur Delacour throws a dirty glance at him but Tom simply ignores her attempt.

“Ah, we haven’t decided a wedding date yet, Lord Voldemort,” Cedric admits. The Diggory heir had long used with their kinds but his fiancé, not so much. Only the blinds would not see her obvious stiffness and uncomfortableness just merely by being here.

Cedric places an assuring hand over her cold ones as she holds onto his side.

Either the girl is deeply in love with the chestnut man or she is a fool, a sheep amongst wolves.

“Ah, Lord Voldemort.” Fleur turns her venomous sweet attention back at him, purposely choose the seat by his side. “It has been a long time since our last meeting.”

“Ah yes, we haven’t met since our fallout.” Tom corrects her, taking satisfaction in the falter in her red lips.

Fleur Delacour never likes when her beauty, her greatest weapon, failed her.

“Unfortunately.” She sighs, batting her long eyelashes. “I heard you got a new boy toy.” Upon her preferring of Harry, Tom frowns, eyes growing dark.

“A little bird told you?” He asks, his smile just slightly more dangerous. “Care to tell me which one?” Or he will find out himself anyway.

“How can an insignificant toy suit for someone of your stature.” Fleur continues, ignoring his blood-red eyes glaring at her.

Even Krum and Diggory quickly picks up on the growing tensions. Neither speaks up or shows signs of acknowledgment. Viktor Krum is with his bottle of wine and Cedric busy with his wife-to-be.

“I always regret our ill-fated fallout. Together, we could be gr…” Her pleases are cut shot much to Tom’s smugness but quickly turns into surprises when the entrance of Hogwarts is open once more.

A silvery braided haired girl in a silver mask enters, fully protected within a group of heavily armed guards, dressing in all black and their faces covered.

Their presences seemingly turn off every noise in the vast Great Hall. Those that are in their ways swiftly moved out, some runs back to their groups.

The four of them all glued on the mysterious girl wearing the silver mask of Apathy as she closed her distance. Their unknown guest wears ocean blue dress robes that weirdly reminds Tom of The Starry Night painting.

“Greetings, the champions that **_My Master_** had chosen.” Those words answered everyone’s unspoken question.

Tom, Krum, and Delacour suddenly have the surge of excitement washes over them.

“May I ask for your identity?” The Krum heir politely requests, bowing as a sign of respect.

“You may prefer me as Sól.” The guest complies, showing them her seal of a gold/pale blue ravens Triskele.

One of the Lords of the Long Nights.

The imposing presence of such individual dawn on them.

Tom already shaking with exhilaration.

“It seems that Lord Voldemort had prepared a present for My Master?” The masked guest with a strange dreamy tone.

Tom snaps his fingers and Mulciber run to retrieves said gift. His Death Eater returns moments later with the folded flayed skin of the rat Pettigrew, all on one piece, on a silver platter.

Mulciber presenting the object to one of the guards. The faceless lord hums as the skins are before her eyes. “Do you still have his body?”

“Yes, my Lady.” Mulciber confirms, “It’s in the dungeon.”

“Good, I will visit it later then. He wants photos.” Her laughter chimes like bells, unsuited for the topic they are discussing. Mulciber complies after gaining approval from Tom.

“Now that Lord Voldemort just fulfilled part of the request. The rest of you better find Alastor before him then.” It can be a light comment on her part but for Krum and Delacour, it weighed heavy on their parts.

Too bad for them. Tom muses.

“Well then, I…” The masked Lord was about to say some more when the phone lighted up from her front pocket. She briefly looks at what seems to be a message before putting her phone away.

Likely from The Master themselves.

“Hmm, Lord Diggory, where is your second son?” she asks without bother to looks at the man while his son remains passive, holding his fiancée’s hand.

“M-my Lady, I d-don’t understand.” Lord Diggory left the spot he’s standing with Lucius, moving closer but quickly stop by those fiercely armed guards.

“My Master, despite in control of everything, there are some activities the just rub him the wrong way.” She casually explains. Tom even sure that the lord is smiling beneath her mask. “And yet, My Master just notice me regarding your son’s unsavory behavior.”

The Diggory pales with each second ticking by.

“ ** _My Master_** asks me to deliver his message to you, Amos Diggory.”

“Please no. Mercy! Mercy!” It’s a sight to see the usual cold, ruthless lord of Diggory lose his composures in front of everyone.

“The **_inferi_** are upon you.” And with that, every single member belongs to the Diggory household—presence in this Great Hall—shaken. “How disappointed.”

“How unfortunate.” Cedric proclaims, taking a sip from his glass. "Shame. Truly pity." Tom can’t help but smirks at the young heir. He is smart.

“And to you, Lord Voldemort. My Master sends his regards and advice. Choose.” Despite the silver mask, Tom can see that disdainful smile very so clearly.

**\------------------------TM &TL------------------------**

“Thank you for inviting me here, Madame Miriam. What a lovely place you have here.” It’s a lie. A lie as Harry hides his irritation behind the fakest smile he can conjure up, while taking a seat on the stupidly soft cushions with too many pillows.

Layers of aroma, fragrant smoke lazily drifting lowly in the air that smell disgusting for Harry. In front of him, sat the pompous strawberry blonde woman in dyed furs and skin-tight dress, a handful of handsome young men in little to no clothing surround her like bees to a flower, a rotten flower.

There are more behind the curtain, Harry is sure of that.

Nude men and women, drunk with aphrodisiac with the only purpose of serving others desires.

Her place is infamous for that stuff. Even now when they are inside a private boot, Harry can still feel and hears many vulgar noises.

The symphony of sins.

“I’m glad that you come. Please remember to tell your Lord that I’m thrilled with his generous gift.” The women speak while playing with her toys, if not for her guest is sitting across from her, Harry is sure that she would have left those men to strip her naked and engages in debauchery already.

“I will.” Harry states. Decline every attempt from some of the males.

“Oh, you should join us sometimes you know.” To hell, Harry thoughts but his face only shows the opposite. “After all, it has been too long since I saw someone as beautiful as you. Especially those eyes. I’m weak.”

“I will decline, Madame.” Harry sits up straight, legs crossed, both hands tangled rested on his lap. “How is he anyway? Lord Voldemort’s gift?”

“Oh, that boy is a pure virgin. I took great pleasure in breaking him.” Miriam laughs, allows today’s selections to worship her body. “He might be pleasuring some of my clients right now. I can get him here if you wish?”

“No need, Madame. That’s all I need to know.” That’s his revenge. He will never see Dudley again after this.

With this, Harry cuts all ties with them.

He washes his hands all the past he spent under that blasted roof.

“I guess my works here is done, I…” He is just about to stands up when the older woman plunges herself at him, causing Harry to fell back onto the sea of pillows much to his displeases.

Her pets followed, touching his legs.

“Madame, please get off me.” Harry smiles but the warning are clear in his tone.

The woman proves to be persistent. “Your eyes are stunning. Such enticing colors, they are like gems. The most precious emerald.”

“Just one night. I promise I will satisfy your every desire.”

“Get off, Mi-.” Harry is cut short when a young man—whom he recognized to be the deplorable second son of Amos Diggory—and with him, a trembling boy with only an oversized shirt. A boy too young compares with the minimum ages he allows the wretched woman to own.

“Madame, this boy kicked me. I demand another from your collection.” The despicable son who forever lives in his older brother’s shadow. 

“Oh my.” The woman laments. Removing herself off Harry, but he speedily grips her hand.

“Madame, if I’m not mistaken, but I remember distinctively that you are **only** allowed to have boys and girls from sixteen and above?” Finally, the woman senses fear engulfing her upon gazing at such a cherub-liked smile.

“W-well, it certainly is the rule. But you know, who would know. I pay Filch for his silence and be my provider.” Now Harry is boiled with indescribable wrath.

“Argus Filch?”

“Why yes.”

“Thank you, Miriam. That’s all I need to know.” He rudely throws her onto the floor with enough force that will leave a bruise for sure.

Her pets and the newly arrived man stunned.

Before the mistress of this vile place can even speak, a legion of guards armed has descended upon the place. Surprising noises and scared screams from unsuspected clients erupt around them.

The man holding the child was also detained by a figure wearing a silver mask of Anger before being hungover to the standby guards.

“Master, we await your order.” The figure drops to his knee, head low.

Miriam along with her pets and that son of Amos Diggory gasps. Especially Miriam who violently trembles.

Harry takes time in fixing his clothes before bothers to glares at the woman at his feet. “Erebus, is Lupa with you?”

“I am here, My Master.” Another figure also bearing the similar mask but of Fear, kneels beside the first.

“I don’t care if both of you have to tear this place apart. Find every child that is being kept here, take her, and make her confess **everything**. I will deal with her later.” Harry looks at the shaking man with contemn. He walks over to the crying boy, Harry shed his outer jacket and put it over the boy.

He stoops down to the level of the child. “I promise you; everything will be alright. No one will touch you ever again.” The boy is sacred and not believing him but Harry is extremely gentle, “Pinky promise.”

The boy, after a long debating time, finally mumbling quietly. “Pinky promise.”

Harry smiles wordlessly orders a nearby guard to escorts the boy out. “Don’t worry, they will take you to safety. I promise.” He assures the still scared boy as he left with the soldier.

“I will not deal with you.” Harry stands face to face with the man carrying the Diggory name. “Your father will. Oh, the ruthless Amos. Just imagine what he will do to you once he knows it was you who ruined his favorite son’s chance.”

Harry knows the man despite being compared to his sibling and he will rub salt to the wound where it hurt the most. “Send him back to Amos for me, will you?”

“Yes, Master. What about the guests?” The man of Anger asks.

Harry fakes thinking for a seconds before happily declares.

“Kill them all.”

.

.

.

Severus Snape watches with fascinating morbid as the massacre before him, in the places once knows only of bodily pleasures, are now a carnage painting of blood and death.

“Y-you are…Lily’s son…” Snape questions the young man standing beside him, who sincerely smiles at the scene playing out. “I didn’t k-know you survived…Dumbledore…Who are you?”

Those eyes inherited from Lily Evans, yet they are completely different. Her once radiant brightness can no longer be found, the eyes Severus once and always loved, the eyes that Severus is staring at, they are… ** _Death_**.

“Oh, Severus. Not a word to Tom, okay?” That wasn’t a request, Snape gulps. “Besides you already have the answer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School started again lol  
> How is everyone?  
> I'm working on the last chapter but no guarantee that it will be up for a while. Sorry. : )  
> I hope I will finish this one first before the muses start planting more ideas.  
> Every Kudos & Comments are, as always, truly appreciated. <3


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